


In Your Veins

by mangochi



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Birthdays, Drinking, First Kiss, Jealousy, M/M, Misunderstanding, Pining, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-09
Updated: 2014-05-09
Packaged: 2018-01-24 02:23:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1588166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangochi/pseuds/mangochi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s probably unhealthy, stupid, the worst decision he’s ever made in his life, but Jim decides he likes Leonard McCoy, and to hell with anyone else who tries to argue the point.</p><p>
  <a href="http://8tracks.com/halfbluds/otp-soundtrack">[x]</a>
</p><p>Excellent mix, btw, for every flavor of OTP.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Your Veins

Jim spends his first birthday at the Academy at a trashy bar in the unsavory parts of nighttime San Francisco, and he wakes up the next morning with an empty bottle of cheap bourbon cradled in his arms and no recollection of the bar’s name or how the hell he ended up in a glittery gold miniskirt and nothing else.

Needless to say, Bones isn’t happy when Jim limps back into their dorm room three hours later. To this day, the sound of multiple hypos descending upon him still haunts his dreams.

The second birthday goes a little more conservatively, if not necessarily better. Jim wakes up in his own bed this time, still fully clothed and more or less sober, but his face is swollen enough to put off a Klingon and Bones, who refuses to speak with him for the next two hours, is sporting two majestically blackened eyes.

It’s not that Jim hasn’t come to terms with his birthday and all that it entails. No, he’s accepted all that years ago, even made a halfhearted attempt to move on before realizing he’s just fine where he is. It’s a part of who he is, like it or not, and if his yearbook picture is sitting right next to the definition of “daddy issues” in the universal dictionary of emotional bullshit, then so be it.

What surprises him every time, though, is that Bones actually yells at him for being gone all night or getting the both of them involved in the bar brawl of the quarter century instead of reenacting the empathizing protector. He’s seen Bones play that particular card before in the clinic, sometimes sincerely, sometimes with a touch of cynical exaggeration that appeals to Jim far more than it should, but never with Jim.

It’s probably unhealthy, stupid, the worst decision he’s ever made in his life, but Jim decides he likes Leonard McCoy, and to hell with anyone else who tries to argue the point.

So what if Bones has his own burdens to carry, his own load of issues that Jim has no idea how to deal with or even if he can. Jim’s got plenty of his own shit to sort through and so, hey, he respects the need for personal space. But if there’s anyone he wants by his side when the storm blows over, it’s the guy who didn’t pick up on the significance of his last name until their second week into classes.

The thing is, he’s been stuck with Bones since the day he walked out of the shuttle with the man’s vomit on his shoes, and it’s something neither of them have attempted to fight too hard. Some things are just left to fate, and the sharing of filtered life stories over a good bottle only helps it along.

"Don’t leave your socks on the floor," Bones says as he enters their room, interrupting Jim’s wandering thoughts.

"Mmm." Jim rolls over onto his side and scratches his stomach, watching as Bones drops his bag on his own bed and stretches, grimacing when his back pops. The edge of his red tunic rides up briefly, and Jim blinks absently at the strip of bare skin above Bones’ waistband before the man drops his arms again.

"You’re back early," Bones comments, glancing down at Jim suspiciously. "Thought you had exams today."

"I did. I took. I conquered." Jim grins. "Piece of cake."

Bones shakes his head and looks down to unpack his bag, but not before Jim catches the fleeting twitch at the corner of his mouth. “Arrogant ass.” Jim likes to think that he says it with a certain degree of fondness. “There’s gotta be a test out there that you can’t pass.”

Jim’s mood instantly sours and he flops onto his back, staring at the ceiling. “There’s one.”

"Just listen to you." Bones sits on the end of his bed, unbuttoning his collar. "Cry me a river, sweetheart." It’s a casual drawl, a vernacular slip so small that Jim doesn’t even think Bones catches it, but his stomach drops and he twists his head around too quickly to look at Bones.

"What?" Bones raises his eyebrows, something he does with a peculiar sort of awkward grace that fascinates Jim every time.

Jim lifts his shoulder in a dismissive shrug and folds his arms beneath his head. “It’s my birthday tomorrow.”

Bones stills, and Jim watches out of his peripheral as he abandons his half-open tunic and twists around to look at Jim. “I’m not playing this game with you again, kid.”

"What game?" Jim asks innocently.

“ _This_ game. The one where you run off and get your fool ass into trouble and I have to go and haul it out. Or you drag me in. Either way, I’m having none of it.” Bones punctuates his declaration with a burst of uncharacteristic messiness, tossing his now fully unbuttoned tunic away from him with a sense of finality.

"Thought I’d change up the rules this time," Jim muses, ignoring him. "Give you some warning."

"Should’ve warned security instead." Bones stands and Jim raises his head slightly, watching with interest. He’s in a thin undershirt under the tunic, gray and stained dark between the shoulder blades. One sleeve is rucked up higher than the other, and Jim can make out the curve of Bones’ upper arm, the skin pale where sunlight rarely reaches-

_This is pathetic._

Jim exhales with a loud huff as he forces himself to roll over onto his stomach, staring glumly at the wall instead. His hips shift uncomfortably against the bed and he makes those hold still too. It’s not like he hasn’t seen Bones in less clothing before- they _live_ together, for crying out loud. It’s just that, these days, seeing Bones in anything, seeing him at all, makes him hurt all over. And it’s not fair to want so much, he knows, he can’t have his cake and eat it too.

Bones isn’t a cake, though, and all of the idioms in the world can’t describe the way he makes Jim’s stomach drop to his toes every damn day.

"There’s a new Thai place on the square," Bones suddenly says. He’s studying the PADD on his desk, the picture of lounging nonchalance. "Been meaning to check it out."

"Tonight….?" Jim trails off openly, affecting the same light tone as Bones. Two can play at this game, and he hates to lose at anything. _Your move, Bones._

"Nah, not feeling it tonight. Tomorrow, though. Tomorrow could work." Bones glances at him, gives a brief flash of white-toothed smirk. "My treat."

If it’s a game, and Jim’s not saying it is, he has to admit that Bones is getting better at outmaneuvering him.

…………..

The Thai place is nice, tucked into a cozy niche between a tattoo parlor and an orthodontist office. There are red glass lanterns that hang across the doorway, and Jim gives them a cursory glance as he slips in. The air inside is warm, slightly damp, smells of chicken and spices. He blinks a few times, letting his eyes adjust to the dim lighting, and glimpses Bones sitting in the corner booth.

Bones’ back is to the door, but there’s no mistaking the slouched shoulders, the color of the hair that Jim stares long and hard at every morning before Bones wrestles it into shape. The way his right leg bounces nervously outside the booth. It’s a tic that he’s never seemed to be aware of in all the years Jim’s known him, and Jim’s suspected for a while now that it subconsciously makes up for the steadiness of his hands.

He takes a couple of steps in farther, waves a vague indication to the booth when the tiny hostess catches sight of him, and glances back at the table.

It’s funny how his heart can go from one twenty to zero flat in less than two seconds, but it does just that. Clangs down to his stomach and right down to his knees.

He doesn’t know the blonde woman who’s crossed over to lean against the table, but obviously Bones does, judging at the way his head tilts up instantly and the faint exclaim of recognition that Jim can just barely hear over the background music and chatter.

She’s beautiful, all legs and blue eyes and generous smile, and Jim’s sure she’s as lovely a person as she looks.

He hates her instantly.

"Sir?" the hostess asks, and he blinks, time snapping back into place.

"Oh. Sorry, I…..I thought I saw someone."

She gazes at him serenely. “Can I help you?”

"Yes- no. No, I think I’ll be fine." The woman has a hand on Bones’ shoulder now. Jim swallows hard and offers a careful smile. "It wasn’t them."

…………….

Who needs Bones, anyway, Jim finds himself wondering an hour later, squinting up at the moon through his brown beer bottle. It’s not until he hiccups and nearly chokes himself that he realizes he’s voicing it out loud.

"Stupid," he mutters, dropping the bottle and finding himself disappointed when it doesn’t shatter against the carpeted floor. "Stupid, stupid, stupid." Sad, really, that he ends up back in his room after all this, but it’s the last place Bones would look and Jim knows he’s looking. He turned off his comm after the first five calls come through unanswered, and it’s lying somewhere in the bathroom where he threw it after the seventh, still buzzing quietly every now and then.

There’s a distant beep from the bathroom and he hears a voice message this time.

_"Dammit, Jim, pick up."_

He blocks out the rest of it by popping open another bottle and listening to the fizz as he drops the cap on the floor. The moonlight paints Bones’ bed silver, and Jim crouches on his own shadowy bed and tries to forget his own name.

He doesn’t hear the door open until it’s too late, then Bones is right there, silhouetted against the hallway lights. He’s still dressed in the button-up from the restaurant, but the collar’s rumpled and the first two buttons look like they’ve been wrestled open from exertion. Jim imagines the hot blonde and sinks deeper into misery before realizing it’s probably from Bones tearing around town trying to find him.

It’s both flattering and reassuring in a bad, twisted way, but Jim’s feeling pretty bad and twisted right now, so he excuses himself with another swig. “Hey, Boooooones. There y’are.”

"Good God, man, how long have you been here?" Bones turns the lights on mercilessly, ignoring Jim’s plaintive groans. "I’ve been _looking_ -“

"Sorry," Jim coughs, feeling the back of his throat burn with alcohol. "Had to….something."

"Clearly." Bones doesn’t even sound angry anymore, just tired. He sits down across from Jim on his bed, runs a hand through his hair and messes it up even more. "I looked for ages," he says, his voice rough with exhaustion. "All your bars, the beach, the pier, hell, I went to the _library_ , God knows why-“

"I know, man. You’re the best." Jim grins at him, because Bones shouldn’t be looking so sad. He looks best when he’s smiling, and it happens rarely enough that Jim looks forward to every single one of them, and shit, Bones is starting to look mad again.

"I’m tired of this," he says quietly. "Jim, I can’t- I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know what you _want_ , what you, damn it, what you _need_ , I don’t. I just.” He clenches his eyes shut and Jim’s chest tightens sluggishly through the haze of alcohol he’s drowned himself in. “I thought….tonight would be different.”

"It was," Jim says reasonably. "You had fun, I saw you. You and your girl. She’s pretty. That’s good. You’re pretty." He shuts up then before he can dig himself a bigger hole, but Bones is already frowning.

"Girl?"

"Blonde," Jim says vaguely, trying to approximate a height with his hand. He overreaches and topples forward with a resigned grunt, but then a hand is on his shoulder, keeping him up. "Oh, hi." Jim blinks at Bones’ face, suddenly way too close. "Heh, are you mad?"

"I’m not mad," Bones snaps, then takes a deep breath. He swings his body over across the gap between their beds and settles down beside Jim. The mattress dips beneath his weight and their legs brush, shoulders bumping. Jim hums in satisfaction and shifts so that his thigh is fully pressed against Bones’. He thinks there’s a slight hitch in Bones’ breathing, but it may just be his own hiccuping again.

"That was Christine, you imbecile," Bones finally says. "I work with her at the clinic. She’s nice."

"Pretty," Jim repeats stubbornly, without knowing why he’s reinforcing the fact.

"Pretty, yeah," Bones agrees amiably. "Sure. But she’s a friend."

"I’m your friend," Jim mutters.

"Friends don’t run out on each other," Bones points out. "They don’t go off and drink themselves into oblivion for the hell of it."

"You said you weren’t….weren’t gonna do it anymore," Jim frowns. Somehow this seems important, but he can’t quite grasp it and it’s starting to piss him off. "So I thought…..I’d take care of it. On my own."

Bones makes a pained sound. “Of _course_ I said that, there’s nothing else I could’ve said! You’re not that dumb, kid, don’t play cute. Why d’you do it?”

Jim tucks his chin against his chest and mumbles.

"What’s that?" Bones bumps him with his elbow.

"She wasn’t supposed t’be there."

"Christine?"

"Freaked me out," Jim admits. "So I left." He can tell Bones is frowning without looking, and isn’t that cool, because he _knows_ Bones, knows him down to his very…..heh, bones. That’s a good one, he’ll have to tell it some time-

"All right, that’s enough," Bones says, and Jim snaps his mouth shut sheepishly. "Why didn’t you answer my calls?"

"Madatyou," Jim grumbles, then says it slower when Bones bumps him again.

"Mad at me," Bones repeats evenly. "How come?"

"Cuz it’s _my_ birthday,” Jim says pathetically, and he’s _not_ sulking, he isn’t. “Should be with _me_ , you ass.”

Bones shakes a little, and Jim squints at him critically until he realizes that he’s laughing.

"Jerk."

"No, no, come here." Bones wraps an arm around Jim’s shoulders, pulls at him with a hand on the side of his head, and Jim goes down without a fight. He turns his face in blindly to Bones’ shoulder, breathes in the smell of detergent and warm aftershave. "You’re an idiot," he feels more than hears, rumbling against his cheek. Bones’ hand is still on his face, close enough that Jim’s eyelashes brush against a finger when he blinks. "Happy birthday."

Jim hides his sniff with a cynical snort, digging his fingers tighter into Bones’ shirt. “Yeah.”

"Hey." Bones pats at his face, encouraging him to raise his head. "Hey, look at me."

Jim glances up, lingering on Bones’ mouth for maybe a second too long. _Just the drink_ , he thinks dazedly.

"Up here," Bones says, but there’s amusement in his voice. Jim obediently tips his face up higher, then blinks when the kiss catches his temple.

"What-" Jim stutters. "You- Bones-"

"Yeah, yeah, shut up." Bones kisses him again, a soft press of lips against Jim’s. "I was going to wait, had it all planned out- you had to go and screw it up, didn’t you?"

"The Thai place," Jim says dumbly. His hands have somehow end up grasping at Bones’ stupidly nice shirt, twisting into his collar.

Bones grimaces slightly. “Too much?”

"Nope, just right," Jim breathes, and yanks Bones closer. The kiss is messy, more desperate, Jim’s hands sliding up and finally, _finally_ sinking into that stupidly tempting hair. Bones presses against him, turning sideways to get a better angle. They’re both breathing heavily, and Jim’s certain that his breath smells terrible, but Bones is here and now and holy shit, Jim wishes he didn’t drink that much.

Bones makes this _noise_ , like something between a groan and gasp, and Jim echoes it helplessly, sliding his tongue in Bones’ mouth enthusiastically.

"Jim, wait," Bones pants out, trying to pull away. Jim tightens his grip in Bones’ hair and tugs him back, catching Bones’ lower lip between his teeth and biting down just enough to get that tantalizing gasp again-

"Kid, I can’t." Bones’ hands are suddenly heavy on his shoulders, pushing him back. Jim makes a sound of protest, tries to get back, because _Bones_ , but those hands are still holding him still.

"Bones, you jackass, lemme go," Jim complains.

"You’re drunk," Bones says, but Jim can see his resistance crumbling. His mouth is swollen and wet, glinting in the dimness, and Jim tries to lean forward again instinctively, because he needs this, damn it. "Jim, I can’t, I’m sorry, you’re not-"

"Kiss me," Jim growls irritably, grabbing at Bones’ wrists, and this time Bones lets him.

"So easy," Jim mumbles. "Did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah, you sort of did." Bones kisses him again, and again. "But you’re forgiven."

"Am I?"

Bones pushes him back onto the bed, sprawling on top of him, and Jim blinks up in delight. “No,” Bones says decisively. “Not yet.”


End file.
